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jay-me-says · 3 years

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Things Were Different Back Then

CHAPTER TWO: Things of the Past

Masterpost w/ more info on the fic | Note: all SBI-related relationships here are platonic!

Soon after Tubbo and Tommy wake up the next morning (or afternoon, rather) they’re out the door. Before going to speak with Fundy, they stop by Niki’s and ask her to come along. She obliges with a smile.

On the way there, the three talk and soak in the gorgeous day. It’s warm and sunny and the sky is so blue it almost hurts to look at. They banter back and forth, exchanging playful jabs while Tubbo and Niki point out new buildings to Tommy. The president would go so far as to think that it’s a perfect day. The conversation and the sunlight drip sweet honey into his chest.

Tommy seems fine after last night, and it once again strikes Tubbo just how strange it was for him to be gone all this time. It’s like he was missing something vital while the boy was away. Him being back feels right and good.

When the group comes to a stop at Wilbur, Philza, and Fundy’s house, which is a little larger than most of the others in L’manburg, Tommy gets weird again. His expression dims and he shifts his weight between his feet, looking uncomfortable. The change in demeanor is immediate and puts a hard stop to the conversation. The warm honey that had collected in Tubbo’s chest is diluted with a bucket of cold seawater.

Niki is the first to start up again. She approaches the house, stopping for a moment to squeeze Tommy’s shoulder, and knocks on the oak door. Tubbo gently taps the back of his hand against Tommy’s, a wordless question that is familiar to both of them. Tommy answers by grabbing the brunette’s hand. Tubbo squeezes and hangs on, giving Tommy silent support.

Philza answers the door, his face brightening at the sight of Tommy. “Hey! Great to see you all. Come on in.” Niki goes in first, then Tommy lets go of Tubbo’s hand and follows. Philza kisses his son’s head as he walks by. Tubbo is the last in and Philza closes the door behind him, ruffling the boy’s brown hair affectionately. “So, what are you all here for?” he asks.

“We need to speak with Fundy,” Niki says. She smiles sweetly at Phil. Her smiles remind Tubbo of alliums- pretty and soft. Niki always passes out smiles like it costs her nothing, and her smiles are nearly as calming as a good cup of herbal tea.

“He’s in the kitchen right now. We were going to have lunch pretty soon. I’ll make you guys something to eat while you talk.”

The group is ushered into the kitchen. They greet Fundy and sit down at the table with him while Philza stands at a nearby counter, making sandwiches.

“So, Fundy,” Tommy starts, “I was wondering if you would be willing to keep filling in for me for a little while. I know we agreed before I left that it would only be until I got back, but I just…I don’t think I’m up for it yet. I’d like a little more time to adjust. A week, maybe. Is that alright with you?”

The fox looks uncertain and twitches his tail a little as he considers. “Just another week?” he inquires skeptically.

“If you can stand it, yeah. I’ll be back to it by then, big man. Promise.”

Fundy sighs through his nose, then nods. “Yeah, that’s fine. One more week, I can do it.” It seems like he’s saying it to himself as much as he is to Tommy.

“You’re sure?”

He nods, a little more confidence behind him now. “Absolutely.”

“Thank you, Fundy, I really appreciate it. Truly.”

They talk for a little bit longer, eating the sandwiches that Philza brings to them. Mainly, Fundy, Niki, and Tubbo fill Tommy in on the new laws and what improvements they’ve made, as well as discussing their ideas for new projects.

After they eat and put their dishes in the sink, Tubbo, Niki, and Tommy say their goodbyes and head out.

After the council members leave, Fundy sits at the kitchen table for a little longer. Just another week, he thinks to himself. You did this for a month, you can handle another week. It’ll be fine.

Wilbur appears in the side doorway of the kitchen, leaning against the frame. He must’ve been in the living room, listening, because he asks, “So, you’re going to be on the council for a bit longer?”

Fundy tenses. He doesn’t remember when he started hating talking to his father. He decides that it must’ve been some point between when he came to Pogtopia with his diary and when Wilbur pressed the button.

“Yeah. Just for another week,” he replies, looking at Wilbur, “Tommy says he wants to get used to L’manburg again before he gets back into a leadership role.”

Words hang unsaid in the air, and after a moment, Wilbur pushes off the doorframe and walks away. Probably back to his chair, Fundy thinks bitterly. The fox has noticed that his father has three hobbies now. Zoning out for concerningly long periods of time, floating through spending time with him and Gramps, and reading in that chair of his for hours. Fundy wishes he could pluck the thoughts out of his father’s head. He wants, perhaps more than anything, to see what’s going on up there. Maybe it would give him some insight as to how his father can be so painfully close but so, so far away.

Tommy feels better now that he’s walking with Niki and Tubbo again, steadily getting farther away from Wilbur.

Being around Tubbo always puts him a little more at ease and Niki is sweet and easy to get along with. He remembers how excited he was when the two got elected alongside him for the council.

The little group slips back into a conversation once they leave his dad’s house, but Tommy’s heart is not quite in it. Just the possibility of seeing Wilbur had made him feel sick. How is he ever going to properly face his brother like this?

As they walk, Tommy can feel Tubbo’s stare on the side of his face. His worry is palpable, sending a spike of guilt through the blond’s gut. He hates to worry his friend, but he can’t help but get all spacey around Wilbur. The man’s presence whisks Tommy away so easily to a different place- a different time.

Tommy is pulled out of his worries by Eret.

“Hi there!” the man calls. He’s standing a few blocks above the ground, balanced on top of a short scaffolding pillar.

The once-king of the Dream SMP, now a citizen of L’manburg, is working on a house, which is currently a hodgepodge of a bunch of different blocks. Stone bricks, spruce planks, oak logs, and a whole host of other materials. At the moment, the man seems to be in the middle of tearing it down. A sheen of sweat makes his skin look glossy; the axe in his hand hangs lazily by his side as he lifts his other arm to wave. There’s a blue tent set up nearby, probably where he’s been sleeping while the house is under construction.

“Hi, Eret,” Niki greets. “How’s it going? Where’s Mingo?”

Who the hell’s Mango? Tommy wonders.

“Going alright. Mingo’s lazing about in the tent. Got bored of trying to get me to pet her.” He sits down on top of the scaffolding, managing to look almost regal atop the skinny pillar. “What have you all been up to? Council duty?”

“Sort of. We just got back from Wil, Fundy, and Phil’s house. Tommy wanted another week to settle in, so we were talking to Fundy about staying on a bit longer.” Eret turns his gaze to Tommy. “Fair. I’d probably do the same. It must be strange coming back to all of these changes.”

Tommy says, “Yeah. All the new buildings and things have been throwing me off.” It’s true. There were structures in places he didn’t remember and it kept messing up his sense of direction. Without Tubbo and Niki, he surely would’ve gotten lost today.

The former king nods. “You’ll get used to it. Just takes a little time.”

Niki and Eret talk for a minute more, then they all say goodbye and move along. Eret gets back to his house, axe swinging away at patches of wood.

When they get to a split in the path, Niki says, “I’ll be off now. Quackity and I are going to walk around for a while today and think about what needs to happen next as far as rebuilding goes. I’ll bring some notes to the next meeting.”

Niki hugs the boys goodbye, then walks off towards Big Q’s house. Tubbo starts leading Tommy back home. The taller boy zones out for most of the walk. Tubbo leaves him to his thoughts for now, but Tommy can still feel the brunette’s concerned gaze on him every now and again.

When they get home, Tommy sits down on the couch while Tubbo starts talking about a council meeting tomorrow, and how he thinks Tommy should come along. Tommy tries to listen, throwing a few murmurs his friend’s way at the appropriate times, but remains far away. He keeps replaying the moment he heard the first explosion on the day of the Second Revolution in his head. All the words he’d wanted to scream at Wilbur that night- still wants to scream at Wilbur- fill his skull.

“Tommy, what’s wrong?” Tubbo questions, pulling the boy from his thoughts.

He looks up at Tubbo, who’s standing by a mirror that’s hung on the wall next to the couch. There’s a hook to the left of the mirror where the president has put his green suit jacket. His eyes display his worry openly. The spike of guilt from earlier returns, stabbing through Tommy and weighing him down. “I…sorry, Tubbo. I’m just thinking. I guess my head isn’t as clear as I thought it was.”

Tubbo comes and sits next to Tommy on the couch, close enough to faintly brush shoulders with the other boy. He doesn’t say anything, so Tommy keeps talking. “I thought I would be ready to- to come back and face all of this but seeing Wil is just…it’s weird, okay? It was just him and I for so long in Pogtopia. We were a team. Then things got bad and he, well…you know what he did. I thought it would be easier to face him after being away for so long but it’s still like there’s this- this wall between the two of us and I don’t know how to get through it.” Tommy's voice is heavy with emotion. It nearly breaks as he finishes speaking.

His friend leans to the side just a little, so his shoulder presses against Tommy’s. “How about we go to the bench?” he suggests.

Tommy smiles. The bench. How long has it been since he’s been there with Tubbo? “That sounds really good. Yeah, let’s go.”

For what he thinks must be the fifth time that night, Philza wakes up from a nightmare. He can’t remember the details, but the tears streak down his face nonetheless. Sadness and confusion plague him.

He sits up in bed, leaning his head against the wall. Fundy had gone to bed soon after sundown, and Philza had shooed Wilbur off to bed not long after that, refusing to let him sit up reading until sunrise again. He’d gone to bed himself after that and had been struggling for decent sleep ever since. Every time he drifted off, he had a nightmare and woke up with tears in his eyes and no idea what happened in the dream.

The man wipes his eyes and gives up on sleeping for now, swinging his legs gently off the bed. The cold of the stone floor seeps into his feet, sending a chill through his entire body. He gets up and grabs his favorite hoodie from a hook on the back of his closed door. Without the lights, he carefully navigates to the chest at the foot of his bed. The side of it is flush to the wall, filling the gap between the spruce wood planks and his bed. He opens it, balancing the top open against the wall. Ever so carefully, he brushes his hand about inside the chest, feeling around in the depths for the object he seeks.

After a few moments of blindly searching, his fingers meet with cool metal. He closes his hand around it delicately and brings it out. Just enough silver moonlight streams in his window for the man to see what he’s holding. Techno’s crown.

Thin lengths of metal swoop elegantly to form the circlet, ending in six severe points at the top. Bloodred garnets sit securely in the curls of metal at the base of each spike.

Philza had found his son’s crown in the rubble after the battle on the day of the Second Revolution. It must’ve fallen off in the fight. It’s a miracle, really, that it hadn’t been destroyed in the Wither blasts or the second round of explosions.

To Philza’s knowledge, no one knows he has the crown. He’s sure Techno is missing the old thing, wherever he is. He’d had it for so long, it’s like if Philza were to lose his hat, or Fundy his jacket.

Heavy grief settles into the man’s chest, making him wish he would just sink through the floor and be swallowed by the stone. He aches, every day he aches. Over losing Techno, over basically losing Wilbur, over Fundy having such an absent father- over everything his whole family has been through.

For a while, Philza sits there in front of the chest, cradling Techno’s crown and crying, making an effort to not be loud so he doesn’t wake Fundy or Wil. When he’s drained his eyes of tears, he stands up and places the crown on top of his chest of drawers. He stares at it a moment longer, wishing for the days when Tommy, Tubbo, Wilbur, and Techno were just boys, sparring in the yard while Philza cooked dinner and watched them through an open window.

At last, he finds his way back to bed, navigating easier now that his eyes are used to the dark, and curls up under the thick blanket. He lays like that for a while, the tears drying on his cheeks keeping him company until he falls asleep for the final time that night.

Tommy lays sprawled out on the bed in Tubbo’s guest room, covers kicked messily to the edge after a night of tossing and turning.

Tommy had returned from the bench with Tubbo hours ago. He’d felt fine and relaxed then, after indulging in the old ritual for far longer than either of their sleep schedules would approve of. But now he lies awake, unable to keep from thinking about things he’d rather leave tucked in the back corners of his brain.

Since returning to L’manburg, he’s been unable to stop himself from thinking about the Second Revolution, and the things that had occurred in the days that followed. Tommy can’t remember ever feeling so much pain and anger before that. It had been with him every day, never letting him feel normal and fine. It’d curled around him like some wicked serpent. Even when they started rebuilding L’manburg, even during the council elections, even after he was been voted in, it stayed with him. Every last decision he’d made had been clouded by the grief he felt at losing two brothers- and the anger he held for both of them.

It became too much, so he’d run.

Tommy hates to think of it like that. He isn’t even sure whether it’s true, but some part of his brain whispers to him that he had run. Run from L’manburg in such a crucial time, run from his dad when he was going through the same pain as him, run from Tubbo, run from all of it.

For a month, he’d run, travelling who-knows-how-far from his country. During that time, he wandered and thought. There was so little else to do but think, which had been part of the appeal. No council work, nobody to talk to, just him and fresh air and time to think. After so long away, he had started to miss home and his friends and family. He’d thought he was ready to come back, he’d been so sure.

But now, he’s questioning it.

He couldn’t even stand being in the same house as Wilbur. How could he ever go back to being normal like this?

Feeling restless and frustrated, Tommy nearly catapults himself out of the bed, disturbing Walter and Henry II. The dog grunts, sitting up, and Henry II flutters his wings and readjusts.

Tommy digs through the wardrobe, careful not to bang around too much and wake Tubbo, searching for his coat and the sheath for his iron sword, jokingly named Knife.

When he finds them, he pulls on the coat and buckles his sheath on. Then, taking his sword from a hook near the wardrobe, he carefully slides it into the sheath. The motion is achingly familiar now after so many battles fought in wars. Walter and Henry II follow him from the guest room and out the front door, Henry II sitting atop the dog’s head like a little rider with an oversized horse.

The cool night air is calm, only the faintest of breezes floating across the dark sky. The moon misses its other half tonight, but thousands and thousands of glowing white stars keep it company. Tommy doesn’t take much time to stare up at the expanse of deep blue and bright white. He still feels restless. He needs to move.

He starts walking through L’manburg, no destination in mind. Though there are many new buildings, the pathways are familiar to him. Tommy lets his feet guide him, taking note of all the structures, old and new. Eret is right, he’s already starting to get used to it. In another day or two, he’s sure, he’ll be able to navigate to any spot in the country as perfectly as he used to. The idea is comforting. Like maybe everything will eventually return to normal, just like his ability to navigate.

Tommy ends up at the docks. He walks right up to one of the logs that line the edge of the platform, leaning against it on his arms. At some point during the walk, he’d rolled up the sleeves on his coat, so now the rough texture of the wood pokes the skin on his forearms, threatening to scrape him.

The sound of the waves fills his ears, soothing him to some degree. Spray from the ocean kisses his arms and sends a slight shiver through him. It’s nice out here, in the dead of the night. It’s completely silent, save for the ocean. Tommy leans over and pets Walter, fingers trailing through the soft white fur. Henry II hops off the dog’s head and flaps up to the log next to the one Tommy’s leaning on.

Despite the quiet night and soothing environment, Tommy’s brain will not be quieted. He stands there for another hour, at least, thinking of his brothers. Where had Techno ended up, anyways? What was he going to do? How much did he hate Tommy?

Tommy thinks, then, about how he’d not only lost two brothers the day of the coup against Schlatt, but he’d lost two idols as well. Ever since he was a kid, he’d looked up to his older brothers. Techno was so strong and dedicated, and Wilbur knew how to lead and plan. He’d admired them, even when he’d become a teenager, and still admired them during the wars. And now they were both as good as gone to him.

The thought brings Tommy to tears and he stands there for a while longer, adding his own saltwater to the ocean, relieving the heavy block of grief that had settled inside of him.

‘

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